Eyes of an Argonian
by LewGenesis
Summary: The story of an Argonian searching for his friend. Deejahl enters a world full of unrest and challenges ahead as he seeks to save his childhood friend from Dunmar slavers. Armed with nothing but basic amenities, he'll have to use his wits to find her. But deeper issues erupt as time goes on.
1. Prelude

**Prelude - Entering the freeze.**

_Skyrim is cold._

The thought was etched permanently into the Argonian's brain as he crawled closer to the fire. The blankets wrapped around him did little to aid against the cruel wind that slid across his scales like a knife, a low hiss escaping from his jaws at regular intervals. Unlike the warm lush weather of Black Marshes, the entry into Skyrim was surrounded by snow-capped mountains that offered the first of many challenges to come. Visitors to Skyrim would have their courage and fortitude tested from the word go.

The Argonian's shivers were relentless as his bright yellow eyes once more scanned the area around him. Stendarr's Beacon was the name given to the small tower nearby. It acted as a way point between Morrowind and Skyrim, and a fall-back base for a group known as the Vigilantes of Stendarr. Vampire, werewolf and witch-hunters by trade and having an outpost so close to the border allowed them control of predatory creatures that looked to sneak into Skyrim. But for ordinary travellers, it offered brief respite on their travels. The Vigilantes had been helpful and welcoming to the Argonian – offering food, water, warmth and somewhere to rest.

The crumbling tower had seen better days, but still struck a powerful figure against the snowy backdrop. The Vigilantes themselves were resting for the night, as they cycled their sleeping patterns fairly.

His eyes now turned to a book beside him. Leather bound and rugged to any passer-by it held no real significance aside from the name 'Deejahl' on the front of it. The scaly fingers ran across the cover of the tome and in the midst of the snow-storm, he smiled warmly to himself.

Deejahl looked back to the fire once more and tightened the blankets around him as he delved once more into his thoughts. Memories of home, family and loved ones swarmed his inner eye as a sense of longing swathed through his heart like a heat-tipped blade.

His thoughts however were not to remain undisturbed as the sound of footsteps crunching towards him diverted his attention. Head snapping round quickly his yellow eyes picked out on of the Vigilants from the tower – A strong-jawed Nord with tousled brown hair known as Jorborf.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, as his jaw curled into a warm smile.

Deejahl nodded once "Be my guest."

A heavy thunk as the Nord sat down, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees. Observing Deejahl carefully. "You don't have to sit alone you know, we might be vampire-hunters, but we're a friendly lot." He joked, that generous smile once more.

Deejahl's brow furrowed as his gaze travelled over to the Nord. Annoyance rushed up inside him, evidently he knew little of Argonian's – An untrusting race at best. Still he was trying to be friendly, and Deejahl could not fault him for that.

"I know, Jorborf. And I appreciate your hospitality. I prefer one-to-one conversations however, larger crowds somewhat make me nervous."

Jorborf smirked then nodded. "Come then. Let us talk. First off, what is your name? You seemed rather wary about giving -any- details when you came here."

Deejahl balked, hissed a little then grunted. _What would it matter if he knew?_ "Deejahl."

A nod in return. "A pleasure then, Deejahl. Might I enquire then as to what brings you to Skyrim? It can't be anywhere near as comfortable as the Black Marshes."

His claws flexed beneath his robe. _Gah, I knew he'd ask that._

Jorborf's eyes ran over the Argonian's features as he awaited an answer. Evidently the male had plans of his own agenda in Skyrim that he wished not to share, hence the pause in answer. The dark navy scales made the Argonian all but invisible if he closed his yellow eyes, and despite being wrapped up in blankets the Nord could tell he was of an agile and lean build. While no doubt stronger than the Argonian – He'd heard of their ruthless and guerilla like tactics in battle. If push came to shove, he wasn't completely confident of his own ability to win.

Thankfully, Deejahl answered after a short pause. "I'm looking for a friend. A female Argonian. She came to Skyrim not six seeds ago running from some Dunmar slavers. I received this note telling that she needed my aid, that she'd made it to Riften and would wait for me there. I can only hope the Dunmar haven't caught up with her."

Of course. Dark Elves. Jorborf nodded once in return. "That makes sense now. You Argonian's have hatred with the Dark Elves that goes back at least an Era. Do you think she will have evaded capture? Dark Elves can be cunning and resourceful in their actions. And they're usually wealthy. Peoples tongues will wag in Riften for even a small fee."

A sigh escaped the Argonian's lips as he nodded once in reply. "I know. But shes a smart women. I've no doubt she's alive. And even if she isn't, i'll find out where they went and slaughter them all." The anger and hatred in his voice was evident.

"Then may Talos bless you on your search Deejahl. Should you need directions to Riften, or any further aid – Do not hesitate to ask." Jorborf said, nodding once as he rose to leave.

"One question before you go."

The Nord froze. He knew this was coming, he'd simply hoped to avoid it. "Ask it."

"Did they pass through here? Both the Argonian and the Dunmar?"

A pause, then a sharp intake of air. The Vigilante seemed to freeze for a moment, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I am sorry. They asked where she was headed. Gold, talks."

Deejahl's yellow eyes burned into the back of the Vigilante, then he lowered his gaze back into the fire. "Very well." He muttered, signifying the conversation was over.

Once more Jorborf looked over to the Argonian. Opening his mouth to say something, he thought better of it and turned – Walking back to his post.

The blankets around Deejahl tightened once more, and his face crumpled with rage and annoyance. One name ran through his mind over and over again.

_Kalesaa._


	2. Chapter 1: First steps into Madness

**A/N**

**Here we are again, and with another update. I cannot promise updates will be as often as this one has been, mainly because if I find myself struggling with writing I stop and take a break. Work starts as usual tomorrow – But hopefully i'll be able to adhere to a regular schedule (One chapter a week/every few days etc) For now, please enjoy and do let me know if I make mistakes, errors, grammar of if the story is just plain awful – I'm still something of a very amateur writer.**

**Chapter 2 – First steps into madness.**

Sleep had not come easy to Deejahl that night. His thoughts had swirled round and round his head, desperately trying to piece together a plan to find his friend. It was late into the night when sleep finally claimed his weary body – And yet he was granted only a few hours before being woken to the sounds of roaring and the clashing of weapons. Instantly Deejahl was awake and on his feet as drowsiness left him like shadow leaves the sun.

The sight beheld was one of danger and malice. A trio of men were locked in battle with the Stendarr's; A brutish looking Orc wielding a mace the size of Deejahl himself, a Nord bearing a shield and sword and finally a Dunmer armed with a bow. The situation was nothing but dire for the Stendarr – One of them had already fallen, a women named Kayla whom was exceptionally skilled with a halberd. An arrow stuck out of her neck like an insult to her name, vile and splattered with blood. Jorborf was holding his ground against the Orc, but his companion, a man called Trela, had suffered what appeared to be a grievous arm wound. Deejahl had but seconds to react.

_Bandits. Scum. _

His brain surged with ideas as he calculated how best to approach the situation. The Dunmer with the bow held the highest threat, and that was his first target. He stayed low, pulling the blanket off him to reveal dark navy leather garb the same colour as his scales. With the morning still dark he blended in almost perfectly with the rocks around him. Pulling his dagger into his scaly grip he paused for a moment longer, then leapt.

To the bandits he would have appeared as nothing more than a shadow passing through the air, but his yellow eyes granted a terrifying visage that distracted all three of them. The power in his legs propelled him through the air, and he landed gracefully behind the Orc and Nord, and in front of the Dunmer.

Turning his head to the Elf, the yellow eyes met the red ones that were filled with fear. As the Elf fumbled to reach for his own blade, Deejahl offered him no respite he pushed off with his legs again and literally landed on the Dunmer, thrusting his blade into the Elf's neck at the same time. Steel pierced skin swiftly, and the poison on his dagger took hold immediately as the Dunmer's eyes bulged. Confident that the Elf posed no more threat he pushed himself off the dying Elf and turned his back, leaving the knife in the wound to prolong his death.

The Orc and Nord had turned their attention towards him, both standing back to back with terror in their eyes. As the Orcs eyes wandered past Deejahl momentarily to the gibbering dying Dunmer on the floor, his face crumpled with hatred. "Leave the Lizard to me. Finish them off." He grunted, before roaring loudly and charging Deejahl down.

Face crumpling in focus he watched as the Orc bore down on him with a terrifying speed. Swinging his mace high he bought it down hard and fast – A blow that would shatter bones and disable anyone it connected with. Except there was no connection. The mace clanged against the rocks loudly, jarring the Orcs arm. Deejahl had rolled and ducked to his right at the last moment – His smaller and leaner body allowing him greater agility. In the moment of advantage he swept out the Orcs feet beneath him with his tail, watching carefully as the Orc bit the dust. Desperately, the Bandit tried to clamber to his feet – Although Deejahl had different ideas however.

The Argonian was on the Orc before he had even got to his knees. While smaller and leaner, he was ruthless and cunning – And knew how to turn his opponents strength against them. His legs wrapped around the Orcs waist and his feet tucked underneath the knees, as his arms found their way around the Orcs neck. As the Orc struggled, he tightened his grip – Forcing the Orcs legs out and into a choke. In pure desperation the Bandit slammed his fists against any part of Deejahl he could, to which the Argonian replied by wrapping his tail around on of his arms, restraining him. As he further tightened his grip, he twisted his arms sharply and swiftly to the right.

A loud snapping sound echoed across the valley.

The bandit slumped, and Deejahl released the lifeless body watching it slide to the floor. Turning his gaze back to the others he assessed the fight once more.

Jorborf was winning his duel, although his ally had finally bitten the dust, lying face down in the snow. The Argonian moved to assist the Nord, his hand already on his dagger, but it was not needed. Finally breaking through the last of his opponents defence, Jorborf slammed his mace into the Nord face, breaking and shattering his skull and ending his life in a moment.

Deejahl let out a sigh of relief as the battle ended, his gaze now turning back to the not yet dead Dunmer. A smile sprung to his lips as he walked slowly over to the Elf, whom's eyes fixated on the Argonian despite the lack of ability to move any other part of his body.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Thats a particularly lethal concoction you've got coursing through your veins you know. A paralytic poison that leaves the nerve endings that respond to pain untouched. You'll be able to feel everything that wound on your neck is giving you. And as long as I leave that knife in, its probably going to take you .. Oh I don't know .. Lets say, half an hour to bleed out?" The Argonian's smile was terrifying to behold.

As he reached the elf, he sat down on his chest, straddling him. The scaled fingers reached to his belt once more to withdraw another dagger, running the tip along the edge of his fingertips. "Just your luck to find yourself at the mercy of an Argonian. Too bad for you that your race decided to enslave mine. Consider this payback for the way you Dunmer treated my race." The smile turned into a grin, as he got to work reviling his twisted revenge on the hapless Dunmer.

Jorborf could only watch in horror as the Dunmer's muffled screams echoed through the valley.

Dawn had finally risen on Skyrim and the suns tender light reached out across the mountain peaks and skyward trees, enveloping the region with a mothering warmth. The sign of a new day and new challenges ahead – Of course, now that the challenges of the night had been well and truly dealt with.

Five corpses in total. Five lives lost that night. It almost seemed unreal that so many lives could have been lost in such a short time, and yet any fool knew that it was entirely plausible. Deejahl had finished with the Elf many hours ago and yet the feeling of hatred still surged through him, threatening to envelop him. He could sense Jorborf behind him preparing to send the spirits of the fallen bandits on.

* * *

_What a waste of time, they dont deserve a proper pyre. Let them lay there till all manner of creatures consume them_, he thought to himself sneering in clear annoyance. But the argument had already been settled and the Argonian had bowed to Jorborf's ways. This was his land and he had the nous to respect the Nords customs – regardless of his own opinions.

As his gaze once more turned to the Vigilants that had fallen in battle, a sense of sorrow pranged at his chest. They'd been good people them two, kind and courteous towards him. A shame to see them cut down so early in their life, but their spirits should fly on to the afterlife the Nords call 'Sovengarde'. Perhaps there they will find peace. His yellow eyes rested on their burning corpses, and he raised a scaled fist to his heart; bowing his head briefly.

The burning of the bandits didn't take long and once finished, Jorborf made his way over to Deejahl, resting his huge mace on the ledge as he sighed heavily. "Long night. Two allies dead."

"And yet, two live."

Jorborf smiled weakly, "Thats a positive outlook."

"War. Strife. Our cultures and appearances many differ but all races share that unnatural thirst for conquest. To deny our love to fight is to deny what makes us sentient. It's the alpha male battle blown out of proportion." He mused, running a claw across the rock.

"Grm. There may be truth in your words Deejahl."

"You know there is truth in it. Besides, it doesn't matter that much anyway – We won, we're the Alphas'."

Jorborf looked over to the other Vigilant's. "What about our companions?"

Deejahl sniffed. "Natural selection."

A frown crossed Jorborf's face and he grunted. "I disagree, but i'm not about to get in an argument with you. Besides, I've you to thank. If not for your aid last night – I'd certainly be dead."

"Unneeded. Most of my actions were for self-preservation. I could have slipped way in the night unnoticed, but I figured the best course of action was to remove any form of threat for future nights."

An eyebrow on Jorborfs face raised. "I don't believe that."

Another groan from the Argonian. "Perhaps then, a small part of me didn't want to see you butchered, not if I could have helped."

The Nord smirked weakly and nodded, crouching down. "Well, for that small part – I thank you. And here, take this. You've a long way to go and this should keep you stocked up for a few more days at least." He said, placing a small satchel filled with non-perishable food in front of the Argonian.

Deejahl raised an eyebrow momentarily, but nodded once and clasped his claws around the bag, stowing it away beneath his travelling cloak. "Thank you, Jorborf." Once more his claw scratched the rock in front of him, then with a grunt he pushed himself up and stretched out.

"I assume that's you off then? What's your next bearing?"

Deejahl looked down at the crouching Nord and smirked. "I plan to make it to Mistveil keep by nightfall. If I don't, I know there are some ruins on the way. I'll camp there if I have to, although so close to Nord ruins isn't ideal."

Jorborf nodded once and stood up himself, placing a hand on the Argonian's shoulder. "Talos guide you well friend, I hope our paths will cross once more."

"As do I, Jorborf."

With a final nod, both parties turned away; Jorborf heading back to the tower while Deejahl leapt off the rock and onto the path. Placing one foot in front of the other, he pulled the travelling cloak tightly around him and headed deeper into Skyrim.


End file.
